


kisses from strangers

by skree



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, danray - Freeform, the kiss that started it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skree/pseuds/skree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A photographer in search of spontaneous intimacy points his viewfinder at two less-than-suspecting RT employees loose in the city of lights and sound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kisses from strangers

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration: [http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/07/16/richard-renaldi_n_3604763.html]

It started as a simple request. But all things start that way, don’t they?

Convention season was prone to especially unique happenings, because when the gang all got together, interesting experiences were frequent and abundant. And in a city like New York, they were constantly bombarded with reminders that the impossible was a little more tangible amongst the headlight constellations and personalities whose intrigue spanned boulevards.

They’d all walked the streets of New York together in search of food, drink, and lord knows what else one cold night after a convention had finished for the day, several of them stumbling over themselves with boisterous laughter that echoed straight up the sides of tall glass buildings. Michael was occupied in an argument with Caleb, a heated-but-not-really discussion over the mechanics of… well, Ray hadn’t really been listening, so he wasn’t entirely sure, but he did nod in affirmation when the redhead clapped a hand to his shoulder and demanded an ally against the terror that was Caleb Denecour.

Well, Ray had an alibi for having a mind in the clouds, since after all, he had other things to pay attention to as the native New Yorker as well as the proverbial DD of the evening. And cold evenings provided many clouds.

Surprisingly, for all the times the company had visited New York for premiers and launches and events, Ray still maintained knowledge of the route better than anyone – tracing the marked pavement for the thousandth time as he wove through the city, he didn’t mind leading the group through busy intersections and reassuring them that _yes_ , it was perfectly okay to cross the street even when the pedestrian crossing sign wasn’t illuminated, because slow and steady in Texas gets you nowhere in the middle of New York.

And god, he’d missed the fast-paced rhythm of the streets and the flashing lights, because in a strange way he’d never really be able to explain, it was one of the most terrifyingly beautiful places in the world.

So the group – being Michael and Lindsay, Caleb, assorted members of the RWBY crew as well as a few errant production staff, resulting in a group of about twelve – had all agreed to meet up with Gavin and Dan after the Rooster Teeth panel, since their event had run late and Gavin had been bouncing up and down by mid-afternoon, dying to get out on the town. They’d barhopped until they landed a few blocks from Times Square, where they’d evidently spent most of their time marveling at how one of the colossal LCD screens would shatter in slow motion. They finally made it to the square, Michael and Lindsay hanging back to pull out their phones for a picture, before Ray spotted Gavin and Dan and parcoured through hordes of civilians for a proper reunion.

He’d hardly made it over before he saw Dan talking to a man with a camera on a tripod, and made the mistake of eye contact.

The photographer ran up to him excitedly, shaking his hand and telling his story with a variety of very interesting hand motions. Ray had raised an eyebrow over his shoulder at Dan when he stopped to take a breath, but the Brit merely shrugged with an honest quirk of his lips. He returned his gaze to the man, who finished saying that he was photographing people that had never met before, posed to feign romantic or platonic moments to create a study of the power of body language. He’d told them that he’d woven tales of intrigue, of love lost and of families reunited, and the only medium he needed was his shutter and the endless strangers that poured into the famous streets every day. Dan laughed when Ray’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, but his expression faltered ever so slightly into something of surprise when the photographer turned quickly and enthusiastically directed the question back at him, finishing his spiel with “so, you’ll do it?” and a hopeful smile.

They’d started to wave their hands, laugh and say no, it was a mistake, they actually knew each other, but the photographer’s assistant had hauled them over to the man’s tripod before they managed to verbalize their thoughts into coherency. They fumbled around in the cold as the assistant towed them in close, raising and lowering their arms in different intervals while occasionally stepping back, nudging one or the other in all directions before finally bounding back behind the camera with the photographer.

Ray met Dan’s gaze with apprehension, and Dan returned the look of uncertainty with another shrug, but the look in his eyes was unreadable before the photographer’s commands drew his attention away.

He nearly laughed at how ridiculous the spectators looked, staring at the spectacle of a broad-shouldered soldier like Dan Gruchy with his limbs quite tangled between the lanky arms of a certain Ray Narvaez Jr, but the proximity hit him in a rush of heat to his cheeks he was happy to blame on the nip in the air.

The words being sent their way were like stage directions, moving their arms and waists and fingers with verbal strings like a glorified puppeteer. Though Ray was hardly listening, more or less translating his own movements through the shifts of muscle beneath Dan’s coat (which he could feel more strongly, warmer and warmer with time, by the second) “Bring your hand up by his neck, yeah? Cup his jaw in your – yeah, like that. Little closer, can you close the gap where your left foot is? Come on, I’m not signing you two away to marriage, don’t act so damn chaste.” The photographer stepped back, closing an eye and assessing the scenery with a hawk’s gaze. Dan looked at Ray with traces of laughter that set his expression alight when cold fingers graced his jawline, and Ray stuck out his tongue as a dare in reply, but Dan’s smile faded when his eyes darted between Ray’s own like a searchlight. If this is what it was like to be caught in a net, Ray thought, he’d be happy to let himself lounge in the ropes of that gaze until the sun was low in the sky and lit his skin as warm as summertime.

He caught himself, though, shaking away his thoughts before Dan murmured an airy “stop moving” and held his jaw still with fingers growing hotter by the second with the contact. The words were gentle, blown across his skin with welcome heat against his cheeks, and as the photographer fell silent in the background, Ray met Dan’s gaze. His eyes traced the lines of his face, the dips and soft curves in his face contrasted by the lines of his jaw and his nose. He felt the heaviness of that gaze everywhere, down to the magnetism of the atoms and the way they thrummed against his bones, whispering for him to move closer, move _nearer_ , perhaps colluding to pull him into the apparent machination of the universe.

All he could do was fall forward and let the moment wash over him like the tide.

Dan’s fingers trailed up his neck to thread into the younger man’s hair, lapping at the edges like water on the edge of the sea, and before Ray could close his eyes there were lips brushing his own, stubble scratching gently at the edge of his jawline and the taste of something quite uniquely masculine hitting his tongue, and it felt _incredible_. Dan didn’t move until Ray closed the space between them, sighing against his lips when a strong arm wrapped around his waist and held him close. He swayed his hips back and forth playfully, slowly, just enough so that Ray played along and let his weight off his feet, lacing his fingers between the folds of Dan’s scarf and tugging him close. It gave him warmth, a kind of sleepy wakefulness he’d only ever dreamed of. And Dan smiled against his lips like he’d heard that thought clear as day, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss to the apparent surprise of a few passers-by that stopped and made soft noises of endearment.

It was effortless, the lights and sound of the scenery bleeding to white around them, because in all his years, he’d never remembered a kiss like _that._ There hadn’t been any unrequited feelings to validate it, no lust to intensify it to the point of sensory overdrive; no, the innocence of it made Ray’s thoughts blend together and left him pressed almost desperately against the lips of the man before him, who held him close and kissed him back like a lost love found. He almost laughed at the notion, but Dan had managed to singly-handedly slow their surroundings down to the point of irrelevancy, so that it was the two of them and nothing else. And he wasn’t even the one with the camera.

They’d glanced over and seen the photographer’s lips moving, but when he paused, drew the cloth back from over his head, and _stared,_ not with the lens but with his eyes, Ray’s eyes had flickered shut.

The two had stayed like that for a seemingly unsurmountable amount of time before Lindsay had bellowed “get a fucking room!” and the group had let out their bated breaths in favor of laughter. Ray’s lips were still parted in mild surprise, eyes wide and blinking a few times rapid-fire as Dan’s contact moved as fast as it came. Dan had leaned back enough to look Ray in the face, smiling just as much from his eyes as from his lips – genuinely smiling, neither snide nor condescending, but just _warm_ in a way that had always been there but had never really had time presented to think about, to appreciate, to feel against his own _–_ and it warmed Ray down to his toes. They turned to face the group, catcalls still echoing from the back while others applauded in amusement.

The photographer stammered out a thank you when Dan and Ray passed him, nodding at the two and holding a business card out, which Ray took between his fingertips with a shy smile.

Gavin’s eyes held a knowing smile, Michael opting instead for a shit-eating grin, but the rest of the group shook their heads at the two – well, _one_ blushing unabashedly with his companion in front of them. It wasn’t too long after before someone suggested that the group go inside since it was so fucking _cold_ out, and everyone was quick to agree. They scampered off to the nearest neon sign and warm atmosphere, eagerly texting the rest of the gang to join them once inside.

And when Dan’s arm hooked around Ray’s waist again as the two fell to the back of their joined groups, Ray bit back a grin while a blush lit up his cheeks that would’ve melted snow.

**Author's Note:**

> (to whom this is dedicated: feel better, love)


End file.
